


twink dominated by bear

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Male Character, Trans Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: Maybe he's softened in his old age. Maybe the sun has finally scrambled his brain. But he likes Jamison, even when he's stupid. He must be stupid, too. Just a couple of idiots who deserve each other.real summary: jrat and rhog have a pissing contest in the desert, that's it, it's dumb as hell, that's all.





	twink dominated by bear

Bruise-blue night sky shows through the ceiling, and the stars glow as dull as irradiated water leaking through the cracks. The wind sucks through its teeth, whistling a stale tune that makes the dust half-heartedly dance. It buffets the shack walls like a loan shark coming to collect a pound of flesh.

Mako is half-awake, half-asleep. He can almost smell the waves of heat, as familiar in the bush as the smell of the gum trees and the jacaranda in bloom. There’s more dirt than sand - dirt under his fingernails and dirt in his asscrack and dirt in his hair, or what's left of his hair - but it’s so gritty that it acts the same as sand, which means it gets everywhere. Sweat does too, pooling in the creases of his flabby skin and soaking through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Next to him, Jamison twitches and kicks out his leg, mumbling incoherently. He moves like a lizard with its eyes on a fat insect, in sudden untraceable spasms that seem to lack the space in-between. It used to alarm Mako, how fast he is. He could stab Mako in the back before he could blink. Now it only makes him smile. He smiles more with Jamison around than he has in years. Decades, even.

Maybe he's softened in his old age. Maybe the sun has finally scrambled his brain. But he likes Jamison, even when he's stupid. He must be stupid, too. Just a couple of idiots who deserve each other.

Every desert, every day is the same, but they've developed their own sense of time together, independent from reality. It doesn't matter that they've only been working together for a year. Mako knows Jamison’s habits like he knows the back of his own hand, which is why it doesn't startle him when Jamison jerks awake.

He always gets hungry in the middle of the night. That's why Mako was already awake. Even his body has Jamison memorized.

More mumbling. Scraping and wet slurping as he opens up and eats from a can of beans with his fingers. Then he slithers back to the warmth of Mako’s arms, but seconds later, he’s up again. The shack door opens and closes, and that finally rouses Mako.

Idiot. Never go out in the open alone, especially without a weapon.

He follows Jamison outside and grunts at him. Jamison makes a tired noise back at him. His spine pokes through his sun-weathered skin as distinctly as the milky vertebrae of the vault above. Mako doesn't feel like scolding him anymore. Instead he wants to go back to bed. He wants to kiss him and be kissed by him. To hold him and be held by him. To do nothing but appreciate the hours before the morning breaks like an eggshell over their heads.

He really has softened up, hasn't he?

Jamison hobbles forward a few feet, downs the rest of the cold beans like a shot, and sets the empty can on the ground. He hobbles back and squats, knees cracking, so he's almost at eye level with the can. He squints at it with a look of serious contemplation. Mako watches him while idly scratching a bug bite on the back of his neck. He's liable to get bitten more, standing out here in this dry heat.

“You think I can reach it, mate?”

“Hm?”

Jamison pulls his pants down below his ass and says, “I think I can reach it.”

It takes a moment for Mako to realize what he's planning to do. He snorts - three quick huffs of laughter.

“You're going to piss all over yourself.”

Jamison doesn't argue with him because that serious look is back on his face. He angles his hips forward, puts his arms behind his head, and immediately starts to piss all over himself. He shrieks, both in disgust and delight because he got Mako to guffaw like an animal. The bleak expanse of the desert echoes with their radiant laughter.

“Stop pissing!”

“It won't stop! It won't stop!”

“Just stop it!"

“I can't stop!"

“Control it! Try to control it!"

“I can't! I drank a lot! I've been holding it in too long - okay, okay, that's the last of it - nope, still going - I think it's done. Just a little more. Yeah, it's done. Good thing I don't wear any undies, eh?” He shucks off his wet pants so he's naked as the day he was born. “Dammit. These were my lucky pants. Why didn't you stop me? Now look at what you've done.”

“Hm.”

“S’okay. I forgive you, mate. Can't stay mad at you for long.” He laughs sort of hysterically. “Just wish I could take a leak like a real man, yeah? You know how it is.”

Mako stares intently and says nothing. That used to intimidate Jamison, but now, like Mako, it only makes him smile.

The theatrical light of the moon pirouettes on the stage of Jamison’s bare chest and legs. His scars are lopsided and his nipples are gone entirely, the result of a bathroom surgery that left him bedridden from infection for weeks. He told Mako that once casually over drinks and was shocked to learn that Mako actually paid for his.

Make exhales loudly and says, “Let me show you how it's done.”

He pulls his pants down over his ass like Jamison did and assumes a wide stance. He reaches between his legs and spreads his labia as he trained himself to years and years ago as a young man. Jamison watches with his eyes comically wide as he pisses right into the can.

“Hooley dooley," he exclaims. "Mate, you didn't tell me you were so talented!”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands on his shirt, and then he takes it off and tosses it to Jamison. “Clean yourself up or I won't cuddle you. And don't even think about wearing those pants again.”

“Maybe I'll stay in the nuddy. What d'ya think about that?”

“No.”

“I like it. Airing out my bits and all."

_“No."_


End file.
